mini-bussing down south.

The one true touristy splurge so far...a 3 day, mini-bussing, guided group tour. A welcome to Ireland! I arrived at 6am, trekked from the ferry dock to find the group in Dublin and met all the people who I would be exploring with for the next 3 days. Thankfully there was some gooduns. So tour was prophesied to succeed. There was a lot of 'taking the scenic route' which, being Ireland, was all about rolling green hills, blue-gray skies, the odd castle or ruin and lots and lots of black and white cows. It was beautiful...but inevitably most of my bus time was spent napping or in a dazed state of wakenness. I had to be properly prepared for full days of sightseeing followed by full nights of drinking and dancing; what else was I to do?

We followed the southern tourist trek right and true and, in the tradition of organised tours, packed as much as was humanly possible into each day. Blarney Castle, Mitchelston Caves, Beaches, Rock of Cashel, Galway, Killarney, Ennis, beehive huts, Fionn MacCool in the sea, Cliffs of Moher....followed by nights filled with a unique, newly invented (by us) Australian dance, reminiscent of Irish dancing/bootscooting. Mostly it involved us elbowing people out the way and looking very ridiculous. Nights filled with Guinness and Murphy's and group games of Kings in an old man's pub in Ennis. We know how to start a party!

The beginning of one night was spent listening to the stories, jokes and songs of a 40 year old Irish lad named Pa, with the energy of a 5 year old and a perpetual smile....his energy filled the room, it was not necessary for the audience to do anything but sit.....and laugh. And laugh we did, as he regaled us with the (fictional) story of the closing night in a country pub, narrated by the publican. In which he also played all the other characters in a most convincing way. Brilliant.


The traditional young, group bus tour of anywhere really...days spent gathering the necessary tourist photographs and nights spent drinking til two in the morning....magical. And if not magical, then a little bit of fun.

wwoof.

I have been a customer of far too much public transport these last few weeks...this might have something to do with my penchant for taking the word ‘travel’ to the extreme and deciding that to truly see the country I must trek from one end to the other in a single trip. In short, I am terrible at the logistical side of planning. But amid all this travel, I have also had some interesting experiences which made all the cramped, night time bus trips worth it.
I decided that a month in Great Britain on a budget like mine was an impossibility without getting creative about my accommodation. There was no chance of spending the month in hostels which, at 15 pounds a night minimum (that’s about $25), were not suitable for ‘bank balance lite’. So I decided to have a go at WWOOFING (worldwide opportunities on organic farms). I can’t remember where I first heard about it, but a couple of people I met in Canada had done it and said it was a pretty good way to see some different places and score some free accommodation and food. Sounds good!

My first stop was up in the highlands of Scotland, way, way up, in a tiny village which was a 1 ½ hour walk from the nearest town. Probably the most isolated I have ever been without camping. Although my accommodation in a tiny green caravan was reminiscent of many trips into the bush. I had a great week though. I have never felt so satisfied with my accomplishments! I worked for about 6 hours a day, mowing, weeding, painting, sorting...just doing everything that needed to be done really. I stayed with a lively old German woman, who had been in Scotland for some 30 years. She was a great cook. Everything home-made...honestly, the only packaged things in her house were yoghurt, milk and butter. It was incredibly refreshing after eating pub and cafe food for the last month.

It was a beautiful area too. Way up in the hills, on the coast. Although the water was so cold it actually chilled you to the bone, it was so pretty that just sitting looking out to sea was satisfaction enough. It was crystal clear. I know that is a terrible cliché, but clichés are around for a reason, and there really is no other way to describe that ocean. With the sun shining across it, the many shades of blue and green were glinting and shimmering...it was like when you see a beautiful person and you can’t help just staring at them for way longer than is acceptable. After my week with Ingrid and her veggie garden was up, I jumped on one of my second homes and began my journey south. My journey which would see me board 6 buses and a train, all in two days. I arrived all in one piece, if a little travel weary, in the little, coastal Welsh town of Aberaeron to begin my second week of farming life. This time it really was. I had placed myself on a Welsh cob (a breed of horses) farm; a whole 200 acres, with 30 horses that were bred for riding and horse shows. As far as country farms go, this was on the wealthier end of the spectrum. Concrete yards, stables, sheds, a farmhouse with a little flat for students and WWOOFERS, all kept immaculately clean.

It was easy to slip into the comfortable routine at Derwen Stud. Breakfast at 8.30, work for two hours, tea break, work for two hours, lunch break and work for half an hour and you are finished. The work was simple and easygoing too. On my first day I got to know the ride on mower, and we turned out to be great friends. Together we mowed the back lawn, around the pond, along the drive and in the guest house yard (yes, there was a guest house). We did a wonderful job of it too...only two fences got in our way and with some quick manoeuvring we were mowing once more. Also more weeding. And I began to live out my childhood dream of being on The Saddle Club, when I helped feed the horses and muck out their stables. 10 year old me would be so jealous!

The town was also gorgeous, with ice-cream coloured houses bordering the habour and a local green right off the main road. So all in all, my stay with Ifor and Myfanwy was rather successful I think and I have been promised a bed when I return, working visa in hand, in a couple of years.
WWOOFING turned out to be about more than free food and a bed (I had slight suspicions it might) and I ended up meeting some very generous people and learning about a simpler, slower pace of life...and also getting my lazy bum out of my chair in the local cafe and doing some actual work for once! It was great...definitely have a go if you want to travel lightly (or just plain don’t have any money).

volume two.

Ok. Arrival into London was a success, no lost baggage or lost Jordan, although clearing immigration was a much longer and more nerve-wracking experience to what I'm used to. I guess the naive innocence which usually ensures the friendliness of scary officials wasn't working properly. Perhaps caused by lack of sleep. But I made it to London and subsequently to Edinburgh, at which point I was quite delirious with tiredness and the grandma within me was waving her stick and demanding a nap. Though of course I didn't yield to her- I only had 2 nights in Ed and they certainly weren't going to be spent going to bed at a reasonable hour. Fate intervened and I happened to be put in a dorm with a group of Aussies who, as it turned out, live right around the corner from me (relatively speaking...it is actually about 45 minutes away). This was something to celebrate, as I'm sure any South Australian who has travelled knows, if you ever meet anyone who knows Adelaide is real you need to befriend them.

So after we excitedly chatted about life in the homestate we went out and spent the Saturday night in Edinburgh as it should be spent...drinking, drinking and dancing.

Sunday saw the sun rising at 4am as we covered our heads with our pillows and inwardly groaned about which idiot didn't close the curtain the night before. Fast forward a few hours and, fortified by a hearty youth hostel breakfast, we are preparing to take a walking tour to learn some of the darkly comedic stories about Edinburgh's past. And there are many...here are just a couple.

***When the witch burning craze swept Europe back in the 17th century Scotland thought it should get involved as well, and after setting some obvious criteria with which to discover witches (red hair, 3rd nipple, that sort of thing), they began to scourge the city of Edinburgh of the ungodly. After many triumphant captures and burnings a slight problem became apparent. The city had used its entire supply of wood, which was needed to burn in order to produce the coal from which walls and buildings were made, burning witches and they were left with nothing to build with. It's ok though, some quick thinking saved the day. The coal that remained from the witch burnings was gathered and used instead, and to this day you can visit Scotland and lean against a wall made from dead Scottish witches.***

The second tale is a little less macabre and a little more gross.

***Back in the day, Edinburgh was a maze of narrow, cobble-stoned alleyways surrounded on both sides by tall tenement buildings. It was also a city lacking a sophisticated sewage system. I say 'sophisticated' because there was a system in place, however basic. It was, more or less, 'throw your waste out the window and into the street whenever is necessary'. This worked for a while, but when the councilmen decided something needed to be done about hygiene in the city they declared there was to be 2 daily times allotted for sewage disposal. 7am or 10pm. Since nobody (one would hope) has a full bucket of sewage at 7 in the morning, 10pm became the norm. Special time, 10pm. It was also when all the pubs closed and the loyal patrons had to stumble back to their homes and lives.

So it is dark. The inebriated crowds are filling the narrow streets eager for bed. Those at home are emptying their buckets of sewage before also going to bed. As a common courtesy, a warning was shouted before any bucket was dumped but, in this situation, it is easy to understand why there was an unfortunate few who did not make it to safety in time. A little bit of imagination here...and this is how the term 'shitfaced' was born. Thankyou Scotland.***

Ed also has a story about a lady who was hanged and came back to life, a dog who was given the keys to the city and a local carpenter/criminal who was the basis of the story Jekyll and Hyde.
But. This entry is more than long enough so I would suggest you hop on a plane and discover this city's stories for yourself or, perhaps a little more realistically, jump onto Google and search away.

Edinburgh Castle.

volume one.

Dear blog. I am sorry for the neglect. And also sorry to anyone who might drop by from time to time. I have been too busy enjoying my travels to sit down and write about them but I now have a 6 hour layover in the (slightly dull) Scottish town of Inverness, so get ready for my longest post yet. Which is so long in fact, that I am dividing it into two different ones. So here is part one. Enjoy.

I have to go back in time, to about 3 weeks ago, when I was up in the hills of Costa Rica exploring the rainforests of Monteverde. Much to Isabelle's disgust we decided a night time forest tour would be a rather interesting experience, so as the sun was setting we found ourselves wandering around a forest lit with glowing beetles, face to face with two-toed sloths, enormous tarantulas and some breed of Costa Rican raccoon. Perhaps Isabelle has been traumatised by this adventure, but I thought it was a little bit fun.

After this our journey, along with an airconditioned mini-bus, took us somewhere we could all enjoy. Which we did. I cant speculate on what life is like for the locals of Manuel Antonio but for the tourists I would say it is the epitome of relaxed laziness set among palm fringed beaches. A typical day involved an after breakfast swim in the pool, followed by a swim in the ocean, perhaps a short walk, back in the pool, lunchtime, some reading, a sunset walk along the beach and then dinner and happy hour at one of the restaurants lining the road parallel to the beach.

I'm not positive, but I don't really think life could be anymore relaxing than that.

After this indulgence in the human love of not doing anything, it was back to New York for a final two days with the lovely family before I was once more on my own in the world. There was a bit more shopping, a lot more walking around and I upped my street cred by getting a piece of metal through my nose. It immediately went right back down to its regular level of 'not cool' though, when I almost fainted after the event. Oh well.

Then the ladies and I parted ways with an awkward embrace on the subway and continued onto our respective airports and lives.

So ends part one. Get a cup of tea, perhaps some cake, and come back. Or just turn off the computer for a while and return later for part two of this enormous post.